Chapter 46

The woman made it ridiculously difficult to get through to her when she had walls built higher than a fucking skyscraper. Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot I could do with the party going on around us except try to extend an olive branch.

I’d tried talking to her casually while we waited for the race to finish.

Nothing.

I’d tried to loosen her up with a few winks and smiles.

Still nothing.

I was even wearing that God-awful shirt she’d made. I didn’t give a flying fuck about being the champion—though beating Declan at chopping wood was something I’d never let him live down. I cared that she put the time and effort into making the goddamn shirt.

Still not a damn thing.

As the party picked up, trying to talk to her became harder. I had to choose between mending ties with the pack and attempting to win my wife over. Unfortunately, the latter had to take a back burner.

And I fucking hated it. It didn’t sit right with me, but Genevieve was the long game. The pack wouldn’t wait. I had to win them over, so I stuck with the pack leaders. I made nice. I listened to conversations and participated. I dodged questions I refused to fucking answer.

I almost had fun.

Almost.

Because through all of it, my every single fucking thought was with the woman on the back porch watching me silently from the shadows. She clutched an unopened bottle of water to her chest as she did. Every once in a while she’d fade into the house, but I never had to wonder if she’d return. She always did. She didn’t talk to anyone, and no one talked to her—the fuckers. It was as if no one realized she was right there. Even Nolan was so absorbed in entertaining pack children that he didn’t seek her out.

She deserved better. So much better.

I wanted to be the one to make her feel included—to make her feel like she belonged. I fucking hated the goddamn wall between us. How was I supposed to get through to her?

That thought rolled on repeat around my mind as I strummed Cole’s guitar and muddled through songs with him and Axel. We took requests from pack members, fucked around with making-up bullshit, and hunkered down in one spot for the night.

With campfires across the lawn, music in the air, and the smell of marshmallows everywhere, the Byrne leg of the Fall Games was a quiet wrap-up. Lucas and Finn were up to shit, but when weren’t they? Sam had long since vanished in the forest, and I was positive we wouldn’t see him again any time soon. Nolan eventually found his way to Genevieve and hung out on the porch with her—though his presence never deterred her gaze in my direction. Isla joined them, leaving only to return with more snacks than any reasonable person needed. Raven fell asleep in Declan’s lap, leaving him, Cade, and Roan to talk quietly around her. Maverick was passed out in a hammock while Alice and Danica had gone to bed hoping to be on the road early.

This quiet, easy kind of gathering was nice—more than nice. I could get used to it. I wanted to get used to it. This sort of thing made the prospect of being back in Cedar Harbor less intimidating.

When an opening came to change the song, I seized it. I’d probably regret it, but I still fucking seized it. There was a good chance music would be the only way to get her to genuinely listen to me. Music had always been that for us. Lazy days of me on my guitar or slow dancing in the kitchen as we sang together.

Over the years, the song I latched on to changed as new music was released. But that last song… fuck, that last song I sang to her. That song stuck with me. It haunted me.

The look on her face as she recognized it shattered me. Eyes wide and glassy, jaw clenched and body tense. Yeah, she was listening to me now.

And fuck, I’d made a mistake, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I put my whole damn heart and soul into singing for her. My gaze never left her. I watched little-by-little as her walls began to crumble.

But the woman behind those walls wasn’t the Genevieve I knew. No, this woman was deeply hurting and broken—mirroring how I felt inside. My heart lodged in my throat as I struggled to force myself to keep going.

For the first time, I realized Genevieve and I weren’t fighting different wars. We were fighting the same fucking one. The same pain. The same memories. Ours was a battle only the two of us could understand.

And maybe, if we stopped fighting each other and began to fight together, we could fucking heal through this shit. We could fucking breathe again.

Both of us.

We both needed it.

And for a fraction of a second, it was me and her. There wasn’t a damn other person around us. But that moment was fleeting as she closed her eyes and forced out a shaky breath. With a fake smile, she excused herself from whatever conversation Nolan and Isla were having around her.

I watched my wife disappear into the house, and it took everything I had not to toss the fucking guitar and chase her down.

I didn’t last that fucking long. I couldn’t. I made it through one more song before excusing myself to hunt down Genevieve. I couldn’t just leave her like that. Protecting the broken woman behind the perfected facade was all I fucking cared about.

“Genevieve?” I whispered as I stood outside the room she’d been in before. Maybe it was her room, or maybe it was Raven’s. I hoped to hell it was Genevieve’s because I didn’t know how else I’d find her.

I laid a hand on the door and shut my eyes, dipping into my wolf senses and searching for any scrap of her I could find. I’d take fucking anything at this point. I couldn’t hear her, but that cinnamon-sugar lotion filled my lungs as I breathed in deep.

“Genevieve,” I tried once more. “Please. Open the door.”

I expected pushback. I expected her to make me beg or yell at me through the door. What I didn’t expect was how quietly she opened it and just stared at me, tears staining her cheeks. Fuck, my goddamn heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said. The admission wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough. I just didn’t know what the hell else to say. Those lovely eyes narrowed as she considered me. Dear fucking God I hoped to hell she understood I meant it. “I’m sorry, Genevieve.”

My voice cracked, emotion clogging my throat. Fuck, just the sight of her pain scorched me raw. She reached out, and I braced myself. Another slap from her wouldn’t surprise me. I fucking deserved it.

But instead, her fingers wrung into the front of my shirt, and Genevieve pulled me through the doorway. Meeting me halfway, her arm draped around my neck. The second her lips touched mine, I was a fucking goner.

I wrapped my arms around her, damn near lifting her off her toes. Her warmth, those curves, her scent—all of it consumed me. Everything about her fanned the spark I desperately tried to pretend didn’t exist inside me. That one she’d ignited years ago.

Pushing her further into the room, I kicked the door shut. I pressed my forehead to hers. My breath mingled with hers, her touch lit my skin on fire, and that cinnamon-sugar lotion made the room spin. I was so fucking lost in her. The world could’ve burned down around us and I wouldn’t have known.

“I’m sorry,” I let out, using a hand around the back of her neck to keep her close. My mouth found hers again, my tongue passing through her lips. I was desperate to taste her, to devour her. That tiny little moan she released shot straight to my thickening dick.

Running my hands down her sides, I gripped her thighs and lifted her off the ground. Her legs wrapped around my waist as I pushed her against the wall. The way her center cradled my cock when I rolled my hips created a burst of sensations down my spine that left me groaning. I did it again, enjoying the friction and the way she wiggled in response.

My lips drifted along her jaw. I savored every inch of her, drawing out every sound from her I could. As I did, I kept apologizing. The words fell out of my mouth on repeat—desperate and pathetic as I willed her to feel just how fucking sorry I was.

Fingers tangled in my hair, and she pulled me away from her neck. She pressed gentle kisses to my cheeks, my forehead, my brows, and even the tip of my nose.

“Just love me, Killian,” Genevieve whispered. “Please.”

“I’ve always loved you,” I said, the words catching in my throat. I kissed her again. And again. I kissed her between every word and sentence because I couldn’t get enough of her. “And I’ll always love you, Genevieve. Not a goddamn thing in this world can change that.”

That was the honest fucking truth. The truth I’d spent three years trying to make myself forget. There would never be anyone other than her for me. This woman in my arms… she was it. She was everything.

She would always be it for me.

Soft kisses turned heated. My fingers dug into her skin, and my teeth nipped at her lower lip. Her breath became my breath, my moans echoed hers. I was hot and bothered, my dick raging behind my zipper. There were too many fucking clothes between the two of us.

Carrying her to the bed, I tossed her onto the blankets and paused to yank my shirt off over my head. Genevieve matched my desperation. She wiggled around as she stripped out of her sweater and shorts.

“Leave the lingerie on,” I ordered gruffly before she could get them off. There was something fucking stunning about the lacy little set in copper orange she was wearing. They covered fucking nothing, leaving her piercings on display. Even the stones on them matched the color. She settled back, running her hands over her bare stomach. “God, you are so fucking gorgeous.”

Her nose scrunched as she began to argue with me. I dropped over her, planting a hand over that naughty little mouth of hers.

“Don’t argue with me,” I said. “You don’t get to tell me what I think about you. Do you understand, princess?”

She nodded behind my palm.

“That’s my good girl,” I whispered. My head dipped down to the hollow of her neck as I let her go. I focused on worshiping every glorious fucking inch of her body. I couldn’t make her believe a damn thing I said, but I could show her.

I kissed along the delicate curve of her collarbone and down her sternum. I reveled in how she writhed impatiently under mine, her legs riding up my hips and her heels digging into my thighs.

Her fingers brushed through my hair as I ran the flat of my tongue over the soft lace of her bralette. I paid close attention to the breathy little sigh she let out and the quiet moans that gathered in her throat while I teased her piercing with my teeth. Licking, sucking, a gentle tug, a sharp nip. Each little thing drew a different sound from her. And each one was fucking addictive—music to my fucking ears. She was panting before I ever switched sides to repeat it all over again.

“Killian,” Genevieve breathed out. My gaze flicked up to her face, but her eyes were closed. Her head tipped back as she lost herself in the sensations, lips parted and my name stuck on her tongue.

“Use your words, princess,” I instructed gently. I wasn’t in the mood for playing, and it was clear she wasn’t either. Whatever she wanted from me, all she had to do was tell me. I’d give it to her.

“Touch me, please,” she said.

God, I’d be fucking happy to. I tugged on her piercing once more, enjoying the gasp it elicited from her, as my fingers skimmed her thigh. Her legs fell open wider, giving me complete access to her lace-covered pussy.

Yeah, the panties had to go. I dragged them off, enjoying the look she gave me as I did. Settling between her legs, I wasted no time. I ran my tongue through her wetness and took a moment to savor her sweet taste. She was a fucking drug—addictive and life-altering. If living between her thighs were an option, I’d never fucking leave. A deep growl vibrated in my throat and was met by a small giggle from her.

“Still your favorite place?” Genevieve asked, her fingers pushing back my hair. I didn’t reply. Holding her gaze, I swirled my tongue over her clit. Her head dropped back onto the bed while her fingers balled in my hair. Much better.

I tested and teased her, getting reacquainted with the ways to build her up. That fucking piercing worked goddamn wonders. In minutes, I had her chanting my name as I alternated between sucking, licking, and pushing the boundaries of her pain kink when it came to her clit piercing. My cock fucking throbbed and strained for attention.

Her teeth sunk into her lip to keep quiet as she exploded on my tongue. I gripped her thighs tighter, holding her in place as I kept going. I lapped up everything she gave me and didn’t fucking stop. The tug of her fists in my hair was damn near painful. Her muscles strained as I continued to assault her clit to carry her through her first orgasm and right into a violent second one that left her body shaking hard.

“Breathe,” I whispered as I pulled back. I planted a hand to her sternum, feeling her heart thunder erratically in her chest. Her hand closed around my wrist, clinging to me. I watched her closely as she came down. I kept my body away from hers and added no additional stimulation. Genevieve was touch-sensitive, offering incredible ways to push her bodys limits and orgasms. But it also meant she was easily overstimulated if I didn’t pay attention. “Just breathe for me, princess.”

Her fingers tightened around my wrist, and she yanked me forward. Her mouth fused to mine in a hungry kiss, her tongue sweeping over mine. I groaned. I fucking loved her unhinged like this. While I loved the way Genevieve submitted and obeyed when we played, there was something about the way she took control that made my blood boil. I loved it when she took whatever the hell she wanted. It was such a rare and fucking beautiful thing.

“Please,” Genevieve said against my mouth. She rushed through undoing my jeans, and the minute her fingers curled around my dick, I damn near came right there. Fuck me. The things this woman did to me. “I want you, Killian.”

“You’ll always have me,” I told her. Because that was the fucking truth. I kissed my way down her body as I got off the bed. She was out of that damn bralette before I had the chance to find my footing. Hungry eyes watched as I shoved off my jeans. My cock sat heavy in my hand as I slowly stroked my length tip to base and back again.

Climbing onto her knees, she crawled closer. Her fingers trailed up my side as she admired my tattoos. Just her touch had my heart fucking hammering in my chest. And the way she pressed her lips to my compass tattoo did nothing to help the matter.

My hand closed around her throat, squeezing hard enough to make a difference. Those gorgeous fucking eyes fluttered shut, and her lips popped open as the euphoric sensation settled over her. I skimmed my knuckles down the length of her body, enjoying the little shiver that rolled through her. I circled her clit as my lips dusted her cheek.

“That’s it, princess,” I whispered against her ear. I wanted her shaking, soaked, and utterly satisfied long before my dick was ever inside her. “Let go, Genevieve.”

I nipped her ear, enjoying the raspy little moan that fell out of her. Her hips rocked against my hand, and I picked up my speed, making sure to pay extra attention to her piercing. Nails bit into my sides as she lost control.

“You should see how fucking pretty you are when you come on my hand, princess,” I said. I slid my hand around the back of her neck and dragged her mouth against mine.

“You should see how pretty I’d look with your dick inside me,” Genevieve replied breathlessly. Oh, Jesus fuck, this woman would be the death of me.

A growl ripped through me as I slung an arm around her waist and damn near tackled her to the fucking bed. Her legs hooked around my hips as I lined myself up. I gave an inch, sliding into her pussy and pausing to stare down the lengths of our bodies. God, she was so fucking tight. It took everything I had not to take what I wanted.

“I said inside me, Killian.” That confidence and demand in her tone was a fucking turn-on—as if I wasn’t hard enough already.

“I know what you said, princess.” I kissed her briefly as I slid another inch inside her. “But I’m not done making you come before I fuck you. Now, be a good girl and come all over my cock.”

Reaching between us, I found her swollen clit once more. Her nails dug into my shoulders as she gasped. Her hips rocked upward at the contact, dragging me in deeper. I bit back a groan at the heat coiling around my spine. I was determined to hold my resolve. She’d come again, even if it killed me.

But thank fuck she was right there and didn’t test my goddamn resolve.

As her muscles pulsed around my dick and as she chanted my name, I thrust into her.

“Yes!” Genevieve gasped. “Don’t stop. Killian! Please, don’t stop!”

My control fucking shattered with that request. I drove into her hard and fast. The headboard hit the wall, and her cries grew louder as I carried her straight past the boundaries of that orgasm. I clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t you hold back on me, princess,” I growled. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”

Her legs rode up my sides, and her knees bracketed my rib cage as she changed the angle. I was relentless, sweat soaking my skin as a liquid heat dripped down my spine. I was so goddamn close. Her muscles fluttered and contracted around my dick, her cries turning to screams behind my hand.

I fucking came undone. The intense rush damn near stopped my heart as I sank deep inside her, filling her with every drop of cum I had to offer. Breathing hard, I stayed there, unable to move and needing a moment.

I leaned down to kiss her and stopped at the trail of silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’d been too much.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. I pulled out slowly and peeled away from her, trying to minimize the sensations. I laid down next to her and set a hand on her sternum. Fuck, her heart was beating so fast. “Just breathe for me, Genevieve.”

Those gorgeous eyes found mine in the dark. That look on her face broke my fucking heart. It wasn’t the first time we’d gone through this. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t take away the in-the-moment guilt.

“Hold me?” she asked quietly, and I nodded, opening my arms to her. She rolled into me, burying her face in my neck as I wrapped my arms tight around her.

I remained still and let her take from me what she needed. However, when her silent tears turned to painful sobs, I had a feeling it had nothing to do with overstimulation and everything to do with regret.